Purdue grads seek answers to Boldt's death

A clipping from the Exponent about Andrew Boldt hangs on the door of professor David Meyer's office in the Materials and Electrical Engineering Building. Graduation is supposed to be a celebration, but for those closest to Boldt’s and Cousins’ worlds what should be a celebration is marred by a painful wound.(Photo: John Terhune/Journal & Courier)

Robert Wayner and more than 1,000 fellow undergraduate engineering classmates will walk from the Purdue University Armory to Elliott Hall of Music Sunday afternoon on the way to graduation, taking part in the commencement procession that's as much a part of campus culture as a fountain run or sledding down Slayter Hill.

He'll receive his diploma — for earning a Bachelor of Science degree in electrical engineering — and he'll hear speeches about succeeding in the real world.

"He would have been in the ceremony," Wayner said, sipping an iced tea at the Purdue Memorial Union Starbucks on a recent weekday. "I hope I don't break down. It's going to feel weird."

Wayner, who is from California, has poured himself into his work in the nearly four months since Boldt was slain Jan. 21 in a basement Electrical Engineering Building laboratory.

He's been trying to find a job while putting final touches on a senior design project involving a refrigerator interface that can compile a shopping list and send it directly to a phone.

But he can't forget.

He can't forget his friend — most called him "Drew" — whom he met freshman year in Physics 172.

He can't forget that he doesn't know what drove Cody Cousins, a fellow classmate, who is charged with shooting and stabbing Boldt in front of a classroom full of witnesses.

He can't forget about the job at John Deere where Boldt was headed after commencement.

"Every day, I just think about this," Wayner said. "I don't know if it's not healthy, or if it is. I just probably will never stop."

Memories of the dark, cold moments following the shooting likely will fade for most of the 5,249 students who graduate from Purdue this weekend, becoming a bleak footnote to a blissful college experience.

But for those closest to Boldt and Cousins, they remain a painful wound that hasn't had a chance to heal. That's partly because nothing is known about the motive for the killing.

"It's a tough time," Dean of Students Jim Hintz said. "They want to be in celebration mode, but for some of them, if they've lost a friend, particularly if they were supposed to graduate together, it can be challenging. Part of them is thinking about their friends who didn't make it here.

"It probably is difficult not having closure in terms of the why," Hintz continued. "In some ways, the why doesn't matter because he's not here."

'Devastated beyond words'

Wayner still vividly remembers the afternoon of Jan. 21, when he received a text from a classmate that something had gone so wrong in the Electrical Engineering Building basement. He was in his dorm.

He struggled to access the web page for the ECE 362 class — "It wouldn't even load," he said; he assumed the website was overwhelmed with traffic — to find out who was leading the class at that hour. Andrew Boldt and Tim Trippel, he discovered.

"I was Facebooking the living daylights out of Andrew," he remembered. "No response. I saw the headlines. 'Man shot dead in lab room.' "

Boldt's classmates and friends met in the MSEE Extension Lobby that night to attend a candlelight vigil.

It was nice, Wayner thought. But it wouldn't bring Andrew back.

"It was kind of unceremonious, despite how ceremonious it was supposed to be," he said.

Two days later, Wayner got a message. Purdue President Mitch Daniels wanted to meet with Boldt's classmates.

That was nice, too. But it wouldn't bring him back.

"To be honest, I didn't really care about meeting him then," Wayner said. "I really just didn't. I was way too sad to think about anything else."

Then the media frenzy was over. The news crews left the West Lafayette campus. Classes resumed, including the problem-solving lab for which Wayner is an undergraduate teaching assistant.

Wayner never brought up the shooting.

"I just didn't feel like anything had to be said."

That's how it's been, these last months.

The ECE 362 course moved to an upstairs laboratory because the classroom where the killing occurred was taken out of use. Assignments were finished. Quizzes were taken. Office hours were held. All-nighters were pulled.

But little was said about Boldt by the engineering students who knew him best. At least not in public.

Professor David Meyer said Boldt's friend Stephen Carlson made a miniature circuit board with Boldt's likeness on it. Meyer said he ordered several for Boldt's friends to have.

"It's kind of a geeky thing, the kind that ECEs would understand and appreciate," Meyer said. "Andrew is the kind of guy who would have gotten a kick out of something like that."

Wayner threw himself into his senior project. He continued to do what he and Boldt used to do together: Stay after class to help students with questions.

"If anything, it made me work harder," Wayner said. "Andrew would have wanted us to work hard in general, move forward. It's just the way we do things, I guess."

It's different for those who were in the room and witnessed the killing.

"The other TA was essentially traumatized that day," Wayner said. "I can't imagine seeing what happened for the rest of my life, in my head."

Yet there's a part of him that wanted to be there. It would have made things harder, Wayner speculated, but maybe there would be more closure. Maybe he would know more.

"It's complicated," he said.

Commencement

The weekend's graduation ceremonies were planned like any other: Deceased students who met most graduation requirements receive a posthumous diploma, honoring the education they started at Purdue but couldn't finish.

A photo appears on the projector.

Hannah Densel, Bachelor of Arts

Andrew Boldt, Bachelor of Science.

Densel's family, who lost their daughter to a fatal car crash in March, did not plan to accept the degree for their daughter.

Neither did Boldt's family.

"This is a difficult time for them and we understand that," Hintz, the dean, said. "We've not planned anything special. We want to be respectful of what happened and be respectful of his family's wishes. And we want to make sure we're being fair about honoring both of these students. Both lives were lost."

The Rev. Nathan Reesman, who has served as the family's spokesman, said the Boldts are very private people.

"The grieving has moved from the public realm into the private realm," Reesman said. "I think they, like everybody else, are still trying to make sense of all of it. No matter what is found out, no matter what comes to light, it will still be very difficult to make sense of it."

Meyer, who has established a memorial award for undergraduate teaching assistants in Boldt's honor, said it is difficult for graduation to go on without Boldt.

"As the parent of two Purdue students myself, my heart goes out to the Boldt family, whose grief I can't even fathom," Meyer said.

Just about everyone is still wondering

Like the rest of his classmates, Wayner will graduate without knowing why Boldt was targeted. Nothing more than speculation has been brought to light publicly.

Those involved in the ongoing police investigation, prosecution and defense have been tightlipped.

The Journal & Courier wrote a letter to Cousins, who is in jail; he has not yet replied. His former attorney, Robert Gevers, has not returned calls from the J&C. His public defender, Kirk Freeman, said he would not comment.

The Purdue Police Department, which is handling the investigation, will not comment, citing the ongoing investigation. Neither will Tippecanoe County Prosecutor Pat Harrington.

Even police closely tied to the Jan. 21 shooting are wondering.

West Lafayette police Officer Kevin Coomey, apprehended Cousins minutes after he left the basement classroom.

"It's odd that nothing has been found," said Coomey, who said he has no knowledge of the investigation. "No motive. It's just odd. Whatever happened, there was a lot of rage in this crime. There's very few policemen around here that have seen a crime like that."

"I hope that Andrew Boldt, his family and even Cody Cousins' family can find closure in this. Both of these families lost a son that day. For one reason or another, they both lost a son."

Although the motive is unknown, unsettling details are starting to come to light about Cousins, who told a judge this month that he was taking medication to treat schizophrenia. Cousins, who has been described as a quiet, reserved man who excelled academically, also recently ditched his attorney for a public defender.

Purdue student Josh Wiedder worked with Cousins at a Circle K gas station for about nine months in 2011. He remembers thinking Cousins was usually "just like another dude, talking about school and girls and sports," but that they had some disconcerting encounters.

"You talk a lot at that job," Wiedder said. "He would go off on weird, spacey tangents. It was like a wormhole. He made you think you were crazy. I can't remember what he said, but I remember after he said something, I recoiled. I was, like, he's in my head."

Wiedder, who said he was deeply upset after the shooting and attended the memorial service for Boldt, is seeking answers.

"For a couple days after, I was lethargic. I was shaken up. You see how the media portrays these people. Cody never gave off that murderous vibe.

"That's the main thing everyone wants to know. We just want to know why — just anything. It would bring so much closure for everybody."